Durability
by Coffee Detective
Summary: AU. Hinata didn't know if she could endure this at all, but there's always a way.


Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything of the sort. This is an Alternate Universe, helpful criticism is well invited. A one-shot, if you please.

Durability

By Coffee Detective

The clock stood above the door, ticking idly onto three quarters of the current hour.

She waited.

But nothing happened. Her damp hair hung loosely over her tense, pale shoulders. When would it end? Hinata didn't know. She didn't want to wait in this cursed room, smelling sandalwood all around her, waiting for that one person who wore that very scent to come back soon.

Her pale eyes flitted back to the clock and then to her hands. If she had never had this, _this_ horrible, wretched ancestry, maybe if her so-many-greats grandmother hadn't gone and screwed things up, then she wouldn't be in this situation, no, she wouldn't even have to think about it. Then, maybe Hinata wouldn't have to see things, have white blood, and see loved ones die right before her pale lavender eyes, too young to see anything scary at all. She wouldn't have this power. She wouldn't have to avoid Gaara.

But, it happened. Hinata saw the illusions, the real things, her white blood, and saw her best friend and little sister die. All because her ascendant had just said yes. All it took was one word. And God, Hinata just wished she could take that wretched clock down and make it turn back every moment so that everything could be right. But, she didn't have the power to do that. That was Shikamaru's job, and like hell he would let her do that.

And she would just have to endure it all. And so would all the other people she gave a damn about.

Hinata turned furiously towards the skinny body of glass behind her on the wall. Her eyes seethed angrily with self-hate, taking in her appearance. Why couldn't anything go right? Why did this have to happen? Why did people have to die just because of her? Her hands clenched and unclenched.

In animosity, she raised her fist.

But, it never did land. A hand, marred with ten year old scar, held her wrist. Its hands tightened, then loosened, letting her hands drop to her sides. In the mirror, she saw red, just touching the crown of her head. He was here. He really did make it.

"Now," started a deep rumble of a voice, "Just what were you thinking?"

Hinata could say nothing. She knew she was a terrible liar, they both new it and her eyes gave her away. Besides, she knew that he already knew.

"Gaara…" Hinata whispered his name quietly. Her eyes were cast downwards, and she said to herself, "What's wrong with me?" But, Gaara had heard.

"Nothing, not a thing at all, Hime." She tensed at the title. It was a formal thing, one she had never gotten cozy with.

"Please don't call me that." She whispered. He hummed in reply and sniffed at her head in affection.

"Don't think too much on it. It's not your fault." Hinata turned on him, but he shushed her. "It's your predecessor's fault. You aren't her. And never will be." Gaara stated, foreheads touching and blue green eyes penetrating. He moved away a bit, much to her disappointment, and held Hinata's hands in his. Compared to his, they were tiny, paler, and smooth. His hands were lightly tan, from training, scarred, and large.

"Such small, fragile hands", Gaara whispered, slowly lowering his forehead onto Hinata's, soft puffs of breath blowing her bangs upward, "It's a wonder how they don't break at all. Hinata, don't avoid me anymore. Nothing will be your fault. Even though Tenten sees it, I won't die. Not now, not ever, I promise you. Don't worry." He whispered gently to her, voice soft and persuading.

Oh, things he did to her.

"But…" Hinata trailed off, voice dying in her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. She was pretty, even when she cried, eyes turning crystal like.

"I really do promise, Hinata. Really." He pushed his forehead off of hers and starting pulling something over his head. It was a silver chain, a single ring on it. Hinata's eyes widened and her mouth opened to protest.

"Gaara, you know you can't give that to me! What happens if…" He interrupted her.

"I don't care. This is my proof. Now and from then on. I love you, alright, and promise me too."

She knew she couldn't refuse. Her power would not let her lie to herself. "Yes." She whispered at last. He put it around her neck and he leaned down to her, lips a shade away, and murmured "I love you." And he pressed chapped lips to her own soft ones, gradually pressing harder, until she opened her mouth and he slid his tongue in, deepening the kiss.

It was gentle, their kiss. She knew beforehand she wouldn't be his first kiss. But he was hers, and that was enough for Hinata. She tasted like wild honeysuckles and vanilla, something Gaara never really expected. The touch of almond and woody flavors wrapped around her thoughts, enticing them, letting her feel like she's never felt anything before. Her thoughts are muddled as she runs her hands through his hair, a soft moan muffled as he wraps his hands around her tiny figure.

But then, the kiss is over as fast as it started. Her lips are swollen red, but do nothing but enhance her features.

Gaara tells Hinata to close her eyes. He disappears in a swirl of sand and once he's gone, Hinata opens her eyes. She feels alone, indifferent and on top of the world, like nothing could stop her, but of course, that's a lie. But, she feels at least more confident, and feels she could like she could endure anything at all.

And Hinata sits on his bed, fingering the silver chain and gold ring upon it. Yes, yes, yes.


End file.
